


Yearbooks Are Still a Thing

by Kalamos



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Gen, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 16:51:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4572216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalamos/pseuds/Kalamos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gansey says, “I looked very different back then.” It’s not exactly a lie.<br/>"Can't imagine," Blue retorts. "You probably were born in Chinos and a polo shirt."</p><p>***</p><p>Ronan convinces Gansey to play a prank on Adam and Blue. </p><p>(The Raven squad being the Raven squad. Trans!Gansey, a hint of Pynch and general fluffiness. Noah and Orla are in this too.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yearbooks Are Still a Thing

"Yearbooks?" Gansey raises an eyebrow. "I didn't know they were still a thing."

"Trust me, they are." Ronan's grin is sly, but without malice. For once, he's simply happy, excited at the prospect of a silly prank, and God knows Gansey could use a bit of simple happiness too.

"Why don't you just dream them up?"

" _Come on_ ," Ronan says, "where would be the fun in _that_?"

If he dreamed up Adam's yearbook picture, Adam would look like Adam, which means normal, and that's not the point. Nobody looks good in yearbook pictures. Especially not in freshman year. There's a reason why Ronan has skipped the special day of Yearbook Photoshooting since he can remember.

Gansey considers the idea for a moment and apparently decides to humour him.

"I assume a complete corpus of yearbooks would be stored in the school library."

Ronan nods. "Mountain View High."

One can say that Henrietta isn't exactly blessed with a variety of schools, which is a nice way of saying that Mountain View High really is the only high school apart from Aglionby Academy. Which, in turn, means that chances are high this is where Adam went before he started at Aglionby.

"It should be accessible for everyone during school hours," Gansey considers. "We could make a detour tomorrow during lunch break. One of us will probably have to distract Adam."

"Or," Ronan says, "we could take _this_ and go tonight."

 _This_ is a shiny iron key and apparently Gansey knows better than to ask where Ronan got it, and the slow, excited smile of _Gansey the boy_ spreads over his face.

Ronan asks himself how long it will take Gansey to connect the dots and figure they could look for Blue's freshman year picture, too, and how long after _that_ to present the idea to Ronan, believing he's come up with it himself.

 

***

 

They take the BMW because in a town of rich kid vehicles a shiny black car is less noticeable than the bright orange, beaten up Camaro. Getting into the school is way too easy, and Gansey, not used to bending the law like that, shifts uncomfortably as Ronan fumbles with the lock on the library door.

"It's not really breaking in when you have a key," Ronan says.

"Actually -" Gansey starts to object, but then the lock makes a clicking sound and the door swings open. Ronan's look is smug. There's always a chance that dream things don't work the way they're supposed to.

Gansey's flashlight illuminates a wide room dominated by shelves that probably were already second-hand when the school purchased them forty years ago. Gansey glances over the book titles with a rather horrified expression. "Are you sure we're in the right room? Because this is not a library, it's an _abomination_."

Ronan shrugs. "Public school. What can you say?"

"Yearbooks are this way," a voice says, and they both startle before they recognize it as Noah's. His body looks like something that's not really there, but his eyes shine eagerness and excitement.

They follow him into a small sectioned-off corner with a single detached shelf and a sofa that looks like someone had tried to dispose of it but put it into the Mountain View library instead. The thirty-something volumes of identical looking yearbooks are not numbered and, apparently, not sorted either, so Ronan grabs a pile of them and lounges onto the sofa, idly leafing through them. Gansey and Noah go through the yearbooks one by one, starting at opposite ends of the shelf.

"Look," Noah says suddenly, "it's Melissa." He's holding out a yearbook that clearly has seen better days. There's a hint of sadness in his gaze.

"Melissa?" Gansey frowns, studying the picture Noah's pointing towards.

"She was my girlfriend. Since middle school."

Ronan experiences a sinking feeling in his stomach and he doesn't know whether it's pity or envy - pity, because Noah had a girlfriend and some asshole had to end his life, and envy, because having a girlfriend in middle school seems like such a normal and happy thing.

"Must've been nice," Ronan says. He realizes it's a very un-Ronan thing to say when both Gansey and Noah look at him, incredulous. "Come on," he adds gruffly. "I wouldn't know. Never had a girlfriend."

"Me neither." Gansey returns his gaze to the photo of Melissa. "She looks like a girl I used to have a crush on when I was ten."

"Did you know?" Noah asks carefully. "Back then? That you're a boy?"

Gansey shakes his head. "Back then I still believed I was a lesbian, even though it didn't feel quite right."

"Like being dead?" Ronan asks with a side glance at Noah.

"No," Gansey says, and there's a frightening absence of emotion in his voice. "Like being a ghost."

The three of them are silent as they continue to search the books, and Ronan feels like the idea of simple happiness isn't exactly what's being realized here. So he decides to abandon the original plan and playfully hits Gansey's shoulder with the school's most recent yearbook.

"Look what I found," he announces, flipping the pages until there's Blue with her impossible hair and bad taste in clothing.

Gansey and Noah lean over the page.

"Is that a necklace made of soda can tabs?"

"Jane certainly does have an interesting taste in fashion."

"Look," Ronan points out, "she's wearing that lampshade dress."

"I thought it looked like a lampshade too!" Noah giggles excitedly. Gansey shoots them both a look that is probably meant to be reprimanding but contains too much amusement to be taken seriously.

"Maybe," Gansey says carefully, "we could look for _her_ freshman year picture, too."

Since there's three of them it doesn't take much longer to find what they're looking for. They make photocopies of Adam's and Blue's yearbook entries from freshman year on the library's shitty twentieth century copier, and of Melissa's entry too, even though a single page takes about five minutes and Noah didn't ask. But he didn't object either and that's all the encouragement they need.

 

***

 

It turns out Adam had a really weird hairstyle in freshman year, but it almost looks good compared to Blue’s hair dyed almost every colour of the rainbow. In terms of clothing, everyone (except for Blue) agrees that Adam’s colourful skull print shirt clearly wins against whatever it is that Blue is wearing in the picture – they’re able make out an unholy amount of buttons and possibly a feather. After some bickering (“It’s art-nouveau, don’t they teach that at private schools?” – “Clearly they teach different things about art nouveau at public schools!”) Blue obviously tires of being the center of ridicule.

"Okay guys," she says, "I'm sure that was an unusual and interesting experience, but now I want to see _your_ freshman year pictures."

Gansey and Ronan exchange a look. Adam suddenly averts his eyes and says nothing.

"Come on.” Blue persists.“Don't tell me they don't do yearbook pictures in private school. I've seen _Noah's_ yearbook picture."

"Yes," Noah appears on Gansey’s bed – or possibly he’s been there the whole time, you don’t know with Noah, "next to a picture of my dead body."

"And that still looked better than the yearbook one," Ronan adds in a serious tone.

"Hey!" Noah shoots him an indignant look.

"It's true," Ronan says. "There's a reason I skip photo shoots in school."

Blue shifts her expectant gaze to Gansey.

He feels like he owes her at least something, so he retrieves a leather bound, shiny book from one of the book piles scattered throughout Monmouth Manufacturing.

She takes only a brief look at it before she complains, “This is from last year.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have any older ones around here. Maybe I could ask Helen to send one.”

After an awkward pause, he adds, “I looked very different back then.” It’s not exactly a lie.

"Can't imagine," Blue retorts. "You probably were born in Chinos and a polo shirt."

"Actually," Gansey starts, but then the courage leaves him. As far as passes go, it doesn't get better than this. But he’s nervous because he didn’t plan it out this way, and he doubts her when he knows he shouldn’t and there’s nothing he can do about it. Becauseit’s Blue and somehow thinking about her and being rational at the same time doesn’t work.

"Look, Blue, this is-" he's searching for words and Blue looks at him like he's lost his mind.

"I get it, okay? Everyone looks ugly in their yearbook pictures." She turns to Adam and Ronan. Adam nods slowly. Ronan just raises his eyebrow and glares at Gansey, and he can practically hear his voice in his head, _just tell her already_.

It's too late now because Blue already shrugs and says, “Whatever. Looking at fourteen-year-olds in private school uniforms isn’t actually on top of my to do list.”

He’s ruined the fun.

 

***

 

Blue had hoped the cat/phone/sewing room would be empty. But there's Orla, curled up on the sofa next to the phone, painting her toe nails yellow.

"Scoot over," Blue says and sits down next to her. She'd meant to call Gansey, but taking the phone with her would seem suspicious. Especially to Orla, who's already made snide remarks.

Whatever. It's not like they're going to have a long and meaningful conversation. Really she just wants to hear his voice after he went all President Cellphone on her over a stupid yearbook this afternoon.

She dials Gansey's number and as she waits for him to pick up, she contemplates Orla's color palette. "Do you have green?"

"It's you", Gansey says on the other end of the phone.

"Yes," Blue replies. "Misdialing. Bad habit."

"Nail polish doesn't come in _green_ ," Orla scoffs. "What do you want? Spring grass? Midnight forest? Manic Frog?"

"Is this a conversation about nail polish?" Gansey wants to know. His voice sounds normal again and Blue lets out the breath she didn't know she held.

"Oh, I just asked Orla about green. She says there's no such thing as green nail polish."

"There isn't," Gansey agrees. "It comes in shades. Like lime, or olive, but it has fancy names. Mermaid Dreams. Shamrock Pixie. Lizard Lust."

"Lizard Lust?" Blue frowns. "Sounds like a reptile supervillain."

"It's true," Orla says and picks up the corresponding bottle. "Oh bugger, it's almost empty."

Blue shrugs because she wouldn't want _that_ color anywhere near her nails. "What do _you_ know about nail polish, anyway?" she asks Gansey.

"I," Gansey says, then stops. "More than you assumed, apparently."

"Oh. How come? Make-up obsessed ex-girlfriend?"

"This is not a conversation I want to have on the phone, actually."

Blue takes this as a yes, which means she doesn't want to hear about it after all.

"It's alright. Remember, I misdialed anyway."

"Right," Gansey says, and then, "I think Midnight Forest would look lovely on you."

Blue's heart skips a beat at _lovely_. "Thanks for the advice."

Then she hangs up softly.

Orla looks at her expectantly, but she must have seen something in her face because she skips the mean commentary.

"Well?"

"Midnight Forest," Blue announces and holds out her hands.

 

***

 

"He should have told her." They're in his room at St. Agnes church and Adam is trying to concentrate on his homework while Ronan's leaning against his shoulder.

Ronan shrugs. "It's Gansey."

"It's not like she'd be mad, right? I mean, it's Blue."

Ronan doesn't say anything, probably because he's ready to accept Gansey's actions and Adam isn't.

"I would have wanted him to tell me, if I were her," Adam says quietly.

"When did he tell you?" Ronan shifts his head and his ear touches Adam's neck and he doesn't shy away.

"After our first fight." Adam remembers it very clearly because after that fight - the first one of many to come - he had thoroughly believed he'd lost Gansey's friendship, over something as stupid as money. Stupid because Gansey had it and didn't care for it at all, and stupid because Adam needed it and cared too much.

"He apologized and said sometimes change is for the better even if it hurts."

"Change's for the better _only_ if it hurts," Ronan says. "Otherwise it wouldn't be change at all."

Adam smiles and he doesn't know why. "He told me then. About him being trans. I..." His voice trails off as Ronan shifts his position and lays his head on the top of Adam's homework, that is, in his lap. They look at each other for a silent minute and Ronan's eyes are calm and he studies Adam's face, open and unafraid.

"For a long time I thought that maybe he'd been trying to determine what kind of person I was, if I was worth keeping after a fight like that." Adam tugs his homework from under Ronan's head and lays it to the side.

Ronan silently waits for him to continue.

"Now... I think he's made up his mind before he even ever talked to me. And the fight just made him open up." His index finger is trailing above Ronan's shaven head and it's scratching just enough to make it feel good. "Like when you put salt onto an ice cube."

Ronan makes a coughing sound that might have been a laugh. "Gansey? An ice cube?"

"You _know_ what I mean," Adam replies and gives him a little shove. So Ronan grins and shoves him back, and suddenly they're playfighting each other, a cluster of limbs and tickles and cotton shirt; and when they fall off the mattress, they simply lie there on the floor - next to each other and slightly out of breath and suddenly still. Ronan reaches out and smoothes down Adam's tousled hair. The moment stretches between them.

Finally, Ronan says, "Gansey'll find a way to tell her. In his own time."

Adam nods, reassured. He realizes he didn't ever doubt that Ronan found him worth keeping, and the feeling is warm and good.

 

***

 

It’s the middle of the afternoon and Blue lays, limbs splayed out, on a blanket underneath her favorite tree, doing her homework. From somewhere inside the house, Calla’s voice calls out, “Blue! Someone’s at the door for you,” just seconds before she can hear the doorbell ring.

“Jane,” Gansey greets her, “it’s nice to see you.”

“Hi. Where did you leave Ronan and Adam?”

“Adam is working, I believe. I don’t know what Ronan is up to. I’m sure it’s nothing good.” He smiles as he says this, which means he said it to entertain her, which in itself is rather exciting and makes her heart beat faster.

“So,” she says. “Where are we going?”

“I thought we should elope. The weather is nice.”

Blue stares at him in disbelief until she realizes he’s made a joke, and quickly collects herself.

“Okay. I’m getting my keys. Will a blanket be of use?”

“Absolutely.”

She runs into Calla on the way to the reading room, and she can tell from her sinister expression that she’s not pleased Blue is going to hang out with Gansey and it’s going to be just the two of them. “Where are you going?” she demands.

Blue doesn’t miss a beat. “Eloping,” she answers, then grabs a blanket from the reading room and her keys from the hallway table and like that, she’s gone. May Calla be angry. She doesn’t care today.

The weather actually _is_ nice, and the Camaro smells of vinyl and gasoline, but also of summer and hope and _everything will be alright_. For an hour or two, Blue decides, she will not think about her missing mother, or how she probably won’t be able to study Pygmy Tyrants in Peru, or what’s going to happen to the magnificent boy beside her.

“Tell me,” she says conversationally, “what did you do before you knew about Glendower? That must have been a serious amount of free time.”

Gansey glances at her for a short moment before turning his attention back on the road. “If you must know,” he says, “it wasn’t exactly boring. My school offered various activities. Sports, debate, chess. The usual. Once, Helen and I took an etiquette class.” He smirks at her.“They did cover make-up.”

"So _that's_ how you know about nail polish."

"I see you took my advice,” Gansey nods approvingly, “the color suits you very well."

“Thanks.” Blue looks at her hands. It’s actually a waste of possibilities to have ten fingernails and use only one colour, but as far as cleanliness and expertise go – which Blue herself certainly lacks – Orla did a very good job.

The drive isn’t very long. Gansey pulls onto a bumpy, overgrown path just outside of Henrietta, and soon they are perched on a grassy hill overshadowed by a group of trees.

Blue lounges on the blanket while Gansey sits rather stiffly with his knees drawn to his chest, looking everywhere (the not so far away mountains, the edge of Henrietta still in view, the wide open fields) but at her.

“Gansey,” she says softly, trying to draw him from wherever his mind is.

Now he looks at her, eyebrows knitted. “I am sorry about yesterday,” he says. “The yearbook prank. It was Ronan’s idea, but I went along and helped him. I should have known you would want to see our pictures too, and of course that is only fair. Except,” he takes a deep breath, “I’m trans and people looking at photos of me from _before_ makes me – uncomfortable, to put it mildly.”

Blue just keeps on watching him as she processes this.

Gansey continues, “It should have occurred to me that people looking at photos from you from four years ago might make you uncomfortable, too.”

There’s a silence between them, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the almost nonexistence breeze.

“For starters,” Blue says finally, “if I wouldn’t want people to look at my pictures in a _publicly accessible library_ , I would have – you know, accidentally – spilled ink over it, or maybe I’d have forgotten to return the book in question.”

She takes a moment to ponder what she says next. “And then, it’s a prank, so of course it’s wrong and makes people upset. That’s why I’m willing to put all the blame on Ronan, and he will get what he deserves.” On noticing Gansey’s slightly worried glance, she adds, “It involves the BMW and a not insignificant amount of glitter and if you so much as breathe a word to him, you’ll be next.”

The corners of Gansey’s mouth twitch, as if he wanted to laugh but wasn’t sure if that would make him the target of another glitter attack.

“You’re ruthless”, he comments instead.

“I know,” Blue replies simply.

Finally, Gansey relaxes, leaning back and looking into the sky. Blue follows suit.

She hears the words again in her head: _If you kiss your true love, he will die._

Over the years, there has been a lot of discussion at 300 Fox Way concerning the male pronoun in the prophecy: Would she be able to kiss girls? What if Blue’s true love was genderfluid? And if it was a trans girl, would that mean the prophecy didn't apply because she had never actually been a He?

Seventeen years are a long time to ponder sexuality and gender in relation to such a prophecy. Not to mention the discussion about the _precise_ meaning of "true love", which, as far as Blue is concerned, could also apply to yoghurt. So she’s been confronted from a very young age with the idea that she might fall in love with a boy who didn’t fit society’s narrow definition of the word.

After some time, she says quietly, “I like you because you’re Gansey. And you’re still Gansey, no matter what body you’re in. It doesn’t make a difference for me.” After a short pause she adds, “Thank you for telling me.”

Gansey closes his eyes and takes a long, relieved breath. “I knew I could trust you, Blue. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

Her hearts stumbles as he uses her real name, but she replies, unconcerned, “Because you never know when you might meet someone who’ll put glitter all over your car.”

And finally, he laughs out loud, and it’s soft and happy and musical.

**Author's Note:**

> (I like to imagine there's a nail polish called "Ghost Boy" which consists mainly of glitter & Blue brought it along for Noah.)


End file.
